


Golden Years

by Emerald Embers (emeraldembers)



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldembers/pseuds/Emerald%20Embers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the DW kink meme: Sanderson Mansnoozie and his journey during the rise and fall and rise of Kozmotis Pitchiner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Golden Age was a time of living legends. There were whole planets of sand-people rather than a scattered handful of nomads, their dreams a gift to the galaxies and all the children within them. Pookas wandered freely, inventing and inspiring wherever they moved. The Constellar nobility ruled with kind hands and kinder hearts, exploring the furthest reaches of the universe.

Sandy was a very young boy when he first met Kozmotis Pitchiner. The General was tall, even by the standards of star-people, and Sandy had been intimidated by his stern face amidst the gentler ones of the nobles he served. The universe was a brighter place then, and Sandy had not understood why anyone would wear such an expression.

Several years passed before a raid on Sandy's childhood ship led to him receiving a swift, brutal education as to why people like Kozmotis were necessary. Sand-people had great strength, but weak constitutions, and the skirmish with fearlings took the lives of all too many of Sandy's kin. When a ship from the General's fleet sailed by and rescued the survivors, Sandy wondered if a universe with more people like Kozmotis would be a universe where he would not have been orphaned.

 

Sand-people did not mourn their loved ones for long, preferring to hold the dead in sweet memories and sweeter dreams. A life without attachments freed him to spread those dreams, to learn how to fly a small ship, and soon Sandy was co-pilot of a comet with one of the many other children who shared his situation. Efreet had a wicked sense of humour and sands like crushed rubies, vivid red next to Sandy's gold.

Sometimes they shared dreams and laughed at the resulting confusion, Efreet's dreams inspiring love while Sandy's granted wishes.

Sandy taught Efreet how to fight or immobilise enemies with sand-whips, and Efreet taught Sandy how to dance as a passive or active partner; Efreet had little interest in playing only one role in life, and Sandy was more than willing to embrace zir in whatever form they chose.

It was a comfortable first love, full of little embarrassments and little joys, and Sandy caught himself wondering on occasion what it would be like to share a ship with Efreet forever.

 

A grand Constellar gathering ended all possibility of Sandy's romantic relationship with Efreet lasting into adulthood, or even adolescence. Mingling with the other dream-weaving pilots led to Efreet falling head over heels for a wielder of green sands, while Sandy found himself the centre of attention in the dance hall. Young enough to be considered harmless, a dancing partner like Sandy who could float was a blessing to pookas and star-people alike, saving them from concerns about bent backs or trod-upon feet. And Efreet had been a good teacher.

Sandy only glimpsed Kozmotis briefly that evening, but immediately noticed how the General was preoccupied with a woman as elegant as any Tsarina. The two of them could not take their eyes off each other as they danced, and for the first time in his life, Sandy felt the dull sting of jealousy.

 

Grand gatherings were once a rarity, called twice in a decade at most, but violence in the distant corners of the universe had people in need of relief. The pain of loss could not be changed, but it could be soothed by good company; a yearly event was something for people to focus on and look forward to.

Moreover, it meant that instead of meetings with his kin being down to pure chance, Sandy could catch up with whole groups of them at a time while Efreet wandered off with zir girlfriend.

The annual meeting gradually dropped all pretence of being an occasion for trade and business, people's attentions drawn instead to food, conversation, and dancing, but Sandy couldn't entirely resist slipping a few sweet dreams to those who needed them. Some people turned up to the event without loved ones who had been there in years beforehand; it only seemed fair to offer them what comfort he could.

 

Sandy never really expected to cross paths with Kozmotis directly, but it seemed the General was superstitious in his own way; seeking blessings for newborn children was unfashionable, but Kozmotis was keen to protect his daughter in worlds both seen and unseen.

Sandy had never given a blessing before, but the ritual used by his people was a simple one - a pinch of sand and a whispered dream, the contents of that dream a secret for only the parents and children to hear.

Kozmotis' expression was soft as he held his daughter out, and Sandy was old enough to know why the sharp angles and amber eyes of Kozmotis' face made him feel flushed and nervous. Sandy concentrated on the sleeping child as best as he could, dropped a pinch of golden sand on her forehead, and dreamed she would grow strong enough to protect herself.

When Kozmotis thanked him with a smile for the most practical dream yet, Sandy couldn't help but blush fiercely before running back to his co-pilot's side, hiding behind Efreet and zir girlfriend. Being old enough to know about fearlings meant being old enough to hear the stories of those who fought them, and Kozmotis was a hero in the majority of those stories, be he at the forefront of a battle or assisting in the background. Sandy had dreamed about Kozmotis leading a heroic charge against shape-shifting armies more than once.

Some childhood heroes were disappointing in the flesh. Kozmotis was not one of those disappointments.

 

Sandy had proved a natural as a pilot, and it wasn't long before he was deemed capable of commanding his own craft. Even if he missed Efreet, he loved his ship; she was beautiful, as gold and glittering as the sands he wielded, small in size and easy to steer. She made dreaming a pleasure, and he thanked her for it every time he woke up.

Each sand-person had a favourite dream to give to others, whether those dreams were funny or romantic, light-hearted or soul-searching. Sandy loved to give out adventures, and he played favourites with their casts; many a dreamer asked for tales of bravery, and Sandy let them imagine fighting side by side with Kozmotis to save ships, or even entire planets.

Sandy never dreamed he might help in an adventure; he was skilled in self-defence, but he was a dreamer - literally - not a warrior. Even so, towards the end of the war against fearlings, sand-people found their dream-shaping abilities called on whenever their own ships passed by vessels that had seen battle. Fearlings had cruel weapons up their sleeves, and soldiers who fell prey to them would be left trapped in nightmares, sometimes permanently if they were not treated on time. Sand-people could force the nightmares to change, and Sandy's skill with dream-weaving quietly earned him a good reputation - enough for him to be recognised by name, if not by face.

Sandy's love of adventures meant he could adapt the most hopeless of nightmares into thrill-seeking dreams. Falls turned into last minute flights, overwhelming hordes would be defeated through the dramatic arrival of outside help, and parents were never too late to rescue their children.

Sandy didn't see Kozmotis during those last months of the war, but he did receive a letter thanking him for his service, and Sandy kept it in one of the many concealed lockers on his ship. His childhood crush hadn't faded, and he was starting to doubt it ever would.

 

The last time Sandy saw Kozmotis Pitchiner, it was at a great celebration with the surviving Constellar nobility and their subjects. The final holdout of the fearling army had been destroyed and the universe declared safe for travel by anything and anyone.

Kozmotis had looked sad and drawn despite the news, sitting alone and quiet, and Sandy approached the General to ask if he wanted to dance.

Kozmotis laughed, but not cruelly, tapping a hand against his leg and saying he would like to, if only he could - maybe next year. A metallic clink made his injury obvious where carefully cut clothes had disguised it.

Sandy dimmed his lettering and asked why Kozmotis seemed unhappy, and was rewarded with a shake of the head and pat on the shoulder. Kozmotis could not answer, but thanked Sandy for his concern before diplomatically changing the subject, asking Sandy about his ship and how something built so small could function so efficiently.

Sandy had puffed up with pride before launching into an explanation of how the star-people's tendency to build big did not always mean they were building better.

 

In later years, Sandy would sometimes wonder if Pitch had been able to harpoon so many stars so quickly because of the knowledge he shared with Kozmotis, but he tried not to let the thought linger. He couldn't blame his younger self for babbling on at Kozmotis - there were few star-people outside of the Constellar nobility who were truly fluent in sand speech, and for a good hour he'd held the undivided attention of the greatest hero the universe had ever known.

Sandy liked remembering Kozmotis' bright, intelligent eyes, and how the skin around them creased when he was deep in thought. He liked to remember Kozmotis' rare smile, and being called a "clever little fellow"; he had blushed so fiercely in response that his sand speech started quivering at the edges.

His final memory of Kozmotis was sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse. Sandy's friends were calling him away, but something in his stomach told him not to leave - not when Kozmotis had looked so alone beforehand.

Sandy compromised, taking Kozmotis' hands in his own and squeezing them tight before saying, "I wish you well."

Even if Sandy had known what was coming, he could not have wished any harder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this chapter onwards, the story contains spoilers for "The Sandman" and "Nicholas St. North and the Battle of the Nightmare King" from the Guardians of Childhood series.
> 
> If you have read "Nicholas St. North and the Battle of the Nightmare King" but not "The Sandman", or vice-versa, a few scenes in this story may seem a little odd in terms of the overall timeline, as the timelines of the books themselves don't match up properly. However, I've tried to blend them to the best of my ability, and I hope you enjoy the results!

Pitch Black's reign over the universe was short but savage. Everyone knew the demon wearing Kozmotis Pitchiner's face was not the General - Kozmotis' noble heart and honourable spirit were absent from the monster tearing through stars and planets alike. He didn't even complete the insult by taking Kozmotis' full name as his own, just a shortened corruption of it.

Pitch brought misery with terrifying swiftness, entire civilisations falling prey to his shadows, and nomadic travellers were no less at risk than the planets they moved between.

Sandy heard pleas for help everywhere he flew, and exhausted himself finding new dreams for people who had good reason to lose all hope.

 

Sandy's one and only glimpse of Pitch at full power was brief, but it was enough to establish how Kozmotis had been buried away. Pitch's size matched his ferocity, and Sandy was soon too busy freeing his ship from the harpoons of fearlings and nightmare men to think any further about what he had seen. Sandy had been frightened before, but he never knew true fear until cold laughter echoed in his ears, mocking his attempts to escape.

Terrified or not, Sandy _had_ to escape. He was not ready to fall. Not a single inch of him was prepared to give in.

The fearlings' excitement grew as another passing target drew Pitch's attention, and Sandy took advantage of the distraction to break free, hurtling towards Earth in his damaged ship; Sandy shut his eyes and fought the urge to let fear paralyse him altogether, even as entering the Earth's atmosphere had the outside of his ship blazing with white-hot flames.

Light flooded the sky, brighter than any sun, and Sandy felt a wish as intense as any he had ever made pulse through the light.

 _I wish you well_ came the message, and Sandy slipped out of consciousness, dreaming that all would be well.

 

Sandy continued dreaming for a very, very long time.

 

The universe changed in the years Sandy spent asleep. It grew quieter, lonelier, and darker.

In all that darkness, children cried out for a rescue. For something to keep them safe at night - something to protect them from their fears until morning.

Sandy woke in what should have been the ruins of his ship, and found he had not only dreamed away centuries, he had dreamed himself a home. Strange sea creatures roamed the corridors as if they had come to serve him, and the lilting music of mermaids filled the air, tempting him to return to sleep.

Sandy looked up through his open ceiling at the moon, knowing it was somehow responsible for his safety, and felt a new echo in his heart. _I wish you would help._

Sandy didn't need to ask for specifics, knowing what the moon wanted because the same desire had stirred him even before he felt the moon speak. Earth's children had resilient hearts but fragile minds - they needed protection from the night's predators.

Sandy intended to do his best.

 

Travelling the night skies soon taught Sandy that he was not alone. There were nightmares and minor demons to destroy, but there were happier sights too. Shooting stars were rare, but the fact they still flew meant the universe outside the Milky Way wasn't empty yet and gave him hope that his kin might have survived Pitch Black's purge. He thought of Efreet's smile, and the warmth in his heart reassured him that if anything had happened to zir, it couldn't have been painful.

On Earth itself, there were also kinder spirits, and guardian-beings that shared the night with him. The fairies were the first he discovered - colourful creatures who visited children's rooms in their sleep, but were more interested in what lay under pillows than what lay on them.

Curiosity made him follow one of those fairies to her origin, and it was through Tooth he met others like him who had heard the moon's call. It was also through Tooth he learned of Pitch's fate and the boy responsible for it.

 

Nightlight didn't visit Earth often. He had a life on the moon he loved, guarding the Tsar Lunar from harm and helping a girl named Katherine write stories. The few times Nightlight had visited, it was only to bring copies of those stories to North so that they might be gifted to children around the world.

North spoken frequently of Katherine and Nightlight as if he were a proud father, relaying tales of his adventures with them whenever egg nog had loosened his tongue, and Sandy took inspiration from the tales for his dreams. Yetis and jewel-laden spirits, giant geese and a metal djinn - they were wonderful stories to tell, and the common enemy of the stories was one worth warning children about.

Pitch had sought to terrorise children before, and while he had apparently been quiet for many years, there was nothing to indicate his defeat was permanent. North claimed his gut said Pitch was still alive, and Sandy believed it; Sandy slipped instructions into his dreams on how to keep nightmares at bay - to face fear, embrace light wherever it could be found, and to remember that as long as the moon orbited Earth, someone would always watch over its children.

 

Sandy's new life came from a violent origin, but as he settled into a routine, he found his life on Earth wasn't so different from the life back when he travelled between worlds rather than cities. The scale had changed, but the events were much the same - he moved from place to place in his own vessel, granting wishes with dreams, and watched out for any fearling threat. Their numbers were small enough for him to fight alone now, and he had lost his own sense of fear during his fall to Earth. On the few occasions he craved company, he could simply reach out to the other Guardians.

It would be a lie to say he didn't miss space - the excitement of travelling vast distances with little knowledge of what he might come across in the process - but Earth's smaller adventures had their own charm.

It was a simple life, and he might have been content with it for decades more if he was never shaken out of his comfort zone by meeting Nightlight in person.

North's stories were as colourful as those written by Katherine, but Nightlight's appearance was startling despite Sandy having heard about it beforehand. Sandy had pictured a scrawny boy with pale skin, but he hadn't pictured him being a literal creature of light.

Nightlight's people were the rarest in all the universe, even before the fearling war and Pitch's reign reduced everyone's numbers. They had been the first species to face the shadow armies, and the first to work out how to fight them. Their lights could never be put out entirely, not even by death, and no one had ever seen a light-person's body fade or rot.

Their survival against the odds had become a symbol of hope to other civilisations, and while North greeted Nightlight as an old friend would, with kisses to each cheek and a hug, Sandy couldn't help clinging to the boy.

Wisp-green arms held Sandy back tight, and even if Sandy could not see Nightlight's smile, he knew it was there.

 

North seemed happy enough to be left reading in peace while Sandy and Nightlight talked. Nightlight's memory of the Golden Age was blurry, and he had little or no understanding of sand speech, but his grasp of Constellar sign language was excellent, allowing them to converse freely.

Nightlight's clearest memories of life before Earth were fond ones of life on the Moon Clipper; he spoke of the Tsar and Tsarina Lunanoff with great affection, and it was clear he considered the Man in the Moon to be family. Katherine and North were just as clearly his dearest friends, though he had many others courtesy of past adventures, and certain gestures had Sandy wondering if Nightlight loved Katherine as more than a friend.

It was hard to be sure, especially when Sandy was caught off-guard by how Nightlight spoke of Pitch. When Tooth mentioned Pitch, it was always with distaste - even disgust. When North mentioned Pitch, it was as if he were an impressive enemy that North had even more impressively defeated. Nightlight spoke of Pitch with pity, and Sandy needed to know why.

"You don't talk about Pitch like other people."

"Neither do you," Nightlight replied, but he didn't avoid the subject. "I spent a long time in Pitch's heart. Something good was stuck there with me. It kept me safe."

Sandy felt butterflies flutter in his stomach. He knew fearlings could cut deep - that there were nightmares sleepers could not wake from, not by themselves, not even with help - and Pitch had been so utterly twisted by darkness that Sandy hadn't dared hope there was anything of Kozmotis left. "Was it still there when you escaped?"

Nightlight shifted, hugging his knees to his chest for a moment, seeming deep in thought. His hand gestures were subtler things when he resumed talking. "I think so. I don't know if it can be saved, but Katherine thinks it should be." He smiled fondly. "She likes happy endings best."

Sandy smiled back, but he wasn't sure if he had the right to feel so relieved. There was no way to be sure if the good in Pitch came from Kozmotis, and if it was Kozmotis, no way to know if he was still sane after centuries of being trapped inside his own body.

Even so, Sandy had spent many years without any sort of hope. He wasn't a great believer in omens, but hearing a reason to think Kozmotis might be alive from someone whose very species represented hope felt like a good sign.

And if Kozmotis was in there, didn't he deserve saving?

 

It was that thought which kept Sandy quiet when he first noticed grey-gold eyes in the nights shadows as he travelled. They never showed up for more than a night or two - their owner avoided the moon's gaze and waited for clouded skies or the darkness of a new moon - but Sandy knew to look out for it, ensure each child he visited had a dream to protect them.

Eventually Pitch decided to end their little game, his lean grey shape taking solid form in the shade of a clock tower and beckoning Sandy over. Time had taken its toll on Pitch, stealing much of his exaggerated height and thinning his already lean features, but it hadn't stolen his presence or made him look any less cruel. That once-noble face expressed Pitch's nature all too well.

"If you're going to stalk me, Sandman, you could at least have the common decency to tell me why."

Sandy wondered how best to respond; if there was something good in Pitch, he wasn't sure how to reach it. "I'm protecting the children."

"Ah. Of course you are," Pitch said, folding his arms and looking up at the dark sky. Sandy's gut twisted a little at the realisation Pitch could read sand speech with ease. "It wouldn't do to disappoint your master."

Sandy narrowed his eyes, whipped Pitch lightly on the shoulder to steal his attention back. "I volunteered. I know where fearlings come from; I won't let you create them again."

"And when did you last see a new fearling?" Pitch replied, taking a step closer, eyes dark with what looked like genuine offence. "I don't convert children any more. This planet is too fragile, and your so-called friends stranded me here."

Sandy folded his own arms, mirroring Pitch's position. "That makes two of us. What do you want, Pitch? Isn't it easier playing dead?"

Pitch bared his teeth in a grimace and snatched at Sandy's cloud, dreamsand turning to lifeless dust in his hands. "I will not be buried. Children need fear. They need _me_. You know why."

Sandy cocked his head, but couldn't find insincerity in his words. Pitch believed fear was necessary, and Sandy remembered the battle that had taken his parents well enough to think Pitch might have even had a point. Besides which, the desire to be seen and believed in was hardly unfamiliar amongst Guardians and spirits.

Sandy unfolded his arms and offered a hand to Pitch. They weren't friends, but Sandy wanted to know if that spark of goodness inside Pitch still had strength left - if his current apathy was not entirely selfish. "If you promise not to hurt anyone, I'll leave you in peace. I'll keep your secret."

Pitch hesitated, watching Sandy carefully. "Why?" He tilted his head, bird-like, before his expression turned knowing and faintly wounded. "Kozmotis."

"My deal is with you," Sandy said, keeping his hand extended until Pitch took it.

"Done," Pitch replied, shaking Sandy's hand once before slipping back into the darkness without another word, leaving Sandy alone in the clock tower's shadow.

 

It was a risk to trust Pitch, knowing what he had been capable of in the past and might be capable of in the future, but there were few people in the universe willing to give him a second chance. Even knowing the reasons why those other people hated Pitch, Sandy was prepared to offer Pitch a way to redeem himself.

It was unlikely the others would approve of Sandy's risk-taking, but it wasn't as if they would ever hear about it.

Sandy meant to keep his secret.


	3. Chapter 3

For a time it seemed Pitch was keeping his word. Sandy honoured his own end of the bargain by ignoring any shifts in the night's shadows, though he did pay attention to the dreams children created for themselves in case there were whispers of the Boogeyman.

Though Sandy stopped actively spying on Pitch, Pitch's behaviour after they established their awkward peace together suggested he was significantly more interested in Sandy as a neutral party than he had been when they were enemies. Sandy felt the weight of eyes on him more than once during quiet, dark nights, and the streams of his dreamsand were occasionally interrupted by curious fingers.

Sandy couldn't give Pitch free reign to play with his dreamsand, not when the agreement they had settled on relied on an already hesitant trust, and decided it was best to act before his amusement at Pitch's actions turned to anger.

Sandy lured Pitch out into the depths of a forest, manifested a bench for the two of them to sit on, and wrapped a tendril of dreamsand tight around Pitch's wrists before dragging him out of the shadows.

 

Pitch had a rough landing, but dusted himself off calmly before taking a seat next to Sandy.

"Well?" Sandy asked, eyebrows raised.

"You can't blame me for being curious," Pitch said, running his fingers lightly over the bench's golden back. "The ability to make dreams. Where do you get all your ideas from, Sandman?"

Sandy knew better than to be flattered by the question, but Pitch's eyes did seem to be a little distant with thought - not watchful and piercing as was their norm. "I grew up with interesting people."

Pitch chuckled softly before stretching out, settling his arm close enough to Sandy's that their fingertips grazed. Sandy narrowed his eyes and tensed up, not snatching his hand back, but fully aware he might soon need to.

Sandy knew how cats played games, feigning interest or even lazy affection before striking. "It does make you wonder -" Pitch said, tilting his head back, the bare column of his throat a temptation.

Sandy let Pitch's end of the bench disintegrate, watched Pitch's elegance disappear as he fell to the ground in a tangle of long limbs. For a split second Pitch's face contorted with nightmarish fury, and Sandy allowed himself a moment of smug satisfaction; if Pitch meant to tease Sandy through his possession of a man Sandy was attracted to, Sandy wasn't going to play fair either.

"Very mature, Sandman," Pitch snarled, rearranging himself into a sitting position on the floor. "But as I was going to say - if your dreams come from what you knew before Earth, how do you know all this is real?"

Sandy cocked his head, thinking easily of football, television, afternoon tea - all things he wouldn't have known of if he hadn't fallen and watched the dreams of Earth's children over the years - and wondered at Pitch's expression. Pitch's interest looked genuine, and Sandy couldn't place why, frowning when Pitch dropped back into the shadows, their talk apparently over.

Pitch had a habit of leaving their conversations unfinished.

 

Sandy had a few weeks of peace before Pitch showed up again, and even if he still knew better than to trust Pitch, he didn't mind the company. Pitch hopped through storm clouds to keep up with Sandy, watching him work, and Sandy couldn't resist showing off a little. Pitch hadn't touched his dreamsand since the incident with the bench, but it clearly still fascinated him, and it was always entertaining to create previews of dreams before they reached the children they were meant for.

It felt oddly civilised to be able to acknowledge Pitch instead of playing hide and seek with him.

 

Logic dictated that Pitch would eventually attract the attention of other Guardians. He was growing bolder as time passed, hiding less and less as if he felt confident despite lacking the overwhelming power that had defined his reign, and while the other Guardians were often distracted by work, they weren't fools.

Sandy never would have guessed that when Pitch did finally make himself known to the others he would do so on purpose.

 

When North gathered the Earth-bound Guardians together, Sandy could guess why easily, even if he made a point of playing innocent and taking advantage of the meet-up to overindulge in eggnog. North and Bunny were happy to argue amongst themselves anyway, and Tooth's nature meant she was distracted from the very start.

Sandy hadn't expected a genuine threat from Pitch, and if the moon had not shone down to prove to the Guardians that the threat was real, Sandy would never have guessed the danger they were all in.

 

"Look familiar, Sandman?"

"Now this is who I'm looking for."

"Don't fight the fear, little man!"

 

A dagger would have been more poetic, but Sandy knew, even as the rest of him thought _"Why?"_ , that there was a broken sort of respect in Pitch's decision to stab him in the back literally as well as figuratively. Fearling poison crept out from his wound as Pitch taunted him, creeping cold through his gut, and Sandy turned to look him in the eye, standing tall and triumphant on his crest of stolen sand.

Pitch's eyes shone with glee as corruption set into Sandy's chest and arms, too fast and too unfamiliar for Sandy to fight against easily.

"I'd say sweet dreams, but there aren't any left."

Sandy remembered the last time Pitch let him fall, thinking him defeated - the last time Sandy had defied all odds and somehow survived.

He closed his eyes, pictured his ship as she had been before Earth, and let himself sail away on waves of blue-black sand.

 

Sandy had slept away centuries in his dreamsand palace without ever losing or doubting his grasp of reality; drifting in the currents of Pitch's nightmare sand was little different.

Pitch's nightmares had a structure similar to dreams, if far more deceptive about how they worked. Moving between them could be a fluid process or a jarring one - some nightmares were light and teasing, dreams of being sent to school in a towel after a shower, while others were violent, even bloody.

Sandy found older nightmares too as he slept; the nightmares of soldiers who had fallen in the war, of children made orphans and parents made childless. Fearling nightmares were crueller than anything Pitch had ever created, and as Sandy explored, he found himself looking in on the nightmare that had ended the Golden Age.

A General afraid of losing his daughter.

Sandy knew it was just a dream, that Kozmotis' face in the reflections of the nightmare was not connected to the shred of goodness buried in Pitch's heart, but he held onto that image as long as he could, reminding himself why he fought. Pitch was the result of the fearlings, a twisted and haunted version of Kozmotis, and as long as the fearlings had a home in his skin, the battle against them would never be over.

 

Sandy lost his grip on the nightmare as the sands that bore him churned and surged forward at Pitch's command, devouring light everywhere they found it, but the way the sands moved told him he didn't need to hold back anymore. The sands were looking for a very specific sort of light - Pitch's confidence tainted the air, but it also gave away his secrets - and Sandy was determined to get there first.

He couldn't fight the nightmares without help, not from inside them, but could at least misdirect them, keeping the cruellest ones back while the lighter ones took the lead.

A child's hand reached out, brushing against the sand deliberately, and something tiny called out within the sands, fierce and bright and burning.

_Brave_.

 

Sandy felt the light before he felt his feet or hands or face, the sands around him blasted into something he could shape, something he could use - to dream back Tooth's flight, North's dexterity, Bunny's strength - and something that could be used for him.

One dream; enough to return him, enough to let him show Pitch what it truly meant to be believed in.

When he lashed out at Pitch to protect those who had helped him, he made sure to finish by knocking Pitch out with a hastily crafted fix for the nightmare that had kept him going.

Whether the good buried in Pitch could see the dream, Sandy wasn't sure, but Pitch certainly could. Golden butterflies floated above Pitch's head when Sandy left him unconscious, a remnant of the fields Kozmotis was to open prison doors onto, replacing what had been a fearling swarm.

Sandy turned away, distracted by the others celebrating his return and the responsibility of putting the masses of converted dreamsand to good use. He didn't have a chance to see if Pitch reacted to Sandy's approximation of Kozmotis' daughter, a shock of black curls in a green dress with her face hidden by a book.

 

Pitch's defeat felt complete, but hollow - he hadn't accepted his loss, had been bitter and angry to the end as his nightmares dragged him away, and experience had taught Sandy the hard way not to trust the appearance of weakness.

Sandy waved off North and the others as they returned to the North Pole to welcome Jack into the field properly, claiming he intended to make sure the children of Burgess got home safely.

It was a small lie, as far as lies went, and bought him time to find a way into Pitch's lair.

 

Shadows and nightmare sand stained the floor everywhere Sandy looked, and even though he had seen and experienced the damage corrupted sands could do, he had not expected their solid forms would turn on their former master so viciously.

Sandy charged, tearing apart the beasts with his whips and fighting his ways towards Pitch, throwing a shield of dreamsand over him as soon as he could. With their quarry lost, the remaining beasts slunk away, letting Sandy expand the shield up and out into a tent with room enough for them both.

Sandy stepped inside, leaving Pitch's lair behind in his thoughts so he could concentrate on the man who was bleeding shadows out onto the floor, what little colour there had been in his skin leeching from stone-grey to ash-white.

"Come to gloat?" Pitch asked, his expression more hateful than afraid, and Sandy shook his head, knelt to press a hand to Pitch's shoulder. The rest of Pitch's chest was a tattered mess, and creeping dread numbed Sandy's fingertips.

"I don't want you to die," Sandy said, trusting Pitch could still focus enough to read his speech. "Tell me what to do. I can help."

"Good luck with that," Pitch snarled, closing his eyes tight.

Sandy slapped Pitch, twice, but got no further response; in shutting his eyes Pitch had also shut out Sandy, and Sandy would have shook him for it if it didn't mean worsening his wounds.

Sandy refused to let Pitch's ignorance prevent him from helping the only way he could; Sandy spread a blanket of dreamsand over Pitch, pressing it down tight to stem the bleeding wherever necessary, before resting a hand on Pitch's forehead.

Pitch's skin was cold and taut, his breathing uneven, but the fear he might be too late didn't keep Sandy from closing his eyes and dreaming as hard as he could.

_I wish you well, I wish you well, I wish you well._


	4. Chapter 4

Sandy knew what it meant when Pitch's lair started to echo with quiet noises, the rustling of insects and drip of water replacing unnatural silence. He let the dreamsand tent collapse, no longer needing its protection as he wrapped both arms around Pitch's neck and held him tight; the nightmares had lost their original quarry, and seemed to have no interest in attacking Sandy, slinking away into the dark without a fight.

Sandy didn't chase them, barely registered that they had left.

"I don't want you to die," he had said. They weren't terrible last words, but he could have done so much better.

Sandy kissed Pitch's forehead, reshaped the dreamsand blanket into a stretcher, and lifted Pitch onto it carefully before letting him go, raising the stretcher from the black-stained floor. Sandy had no intention of leaving him in the dark.

 

The quiet felt wrong as Sandy carried Pitch up and out of the necropolis, occasionally touching a hand to Pitch's wrist to make sure he wasn't disappearing, hoping and hoping he'd feel warmth or a steady rhythm, anything that might prove his eyes wrong.

It wasn't until Sandy approached the shores of his island home that anger set in. It burned through his veins, fiercer by the second - anger at the nightmares, anger at the shadows, and more than anything else, anger at being left alone.

Sandy liked his fellow Guardians, even loved them in his own way, but Pitch was the only other person he knew who had ever felt homesick for space.

Sandy let the sands of his home sweep upwards, a spiralling tower forming that no mermaid could climb, and set Pitch down on its roof as gently as he could. The moon was not due to show its face for hours yet, but Sandy knew where it hid behind sunlit skies, turned away from Pitch to face it, his hands balled into fists.

"Give him back." Sandy held in the rest, if barely. _I've earned this. Please. I don't care what he's done._

The moon had watched him over the years, a silent companion that had helped him when he needed it most, and Sandy had returned the favour to the best of his ability. He'd never asked for much.

Sandy kept his gaze steady despite having nothing to look for, no proof that the moon could hear him or see him while the sun still shone. It didn't matter; fear and grief tore at him with vicious claws, but he had never given before, and he did not mean to give up now.

 

A long, laboured gasp made Sandy turn around sharply, his limbs cold and heavy with shock, but his eyes working well enough to confirm that Pitch was breathing - white as a sheet and shivering, but breathing.

Sandy watched in disbelief as Pitch sat up, his robes still shredded but his skin intact, and his legs unsteady as he swapped from sitting to standing.

It took a moment for Sandy to realise Pitch favoured his left side when he stretched his legs with a quick walk.

It took a moment longer than that for him to breathe when Pitch snatched him up into a hug that bruised his arms.

Sandy had always trusted his grasp on reality before, but even as he hugged back, he didn't dare believe what he had seen when Pitch lifted him up.

Amber eyes.

 

It was a while before Kozmotis could speak without sobs of relief making him incoherent, but once he started asking questions he couldn't stop, sometimes stuttering as he cut off one question to start another. Sandy couldn't answer them fast enough; pauses in conversation only came when Kozmotis needed to breathe, or Sandy needed to think of a way to explain people and events from Pitch's recent history. Kozmotis' memories were fragmented and unreliable, and all too many of the stories Sandy knew thanks to Katherine sounded like the stuff of myths, but Kozmotis was willing to accept them for one detail.

His daughter had not died. She had transformed.

Sandy did not know how to begin introducing Kozmotis back to a world his shadow had terrorised, or how it might interfere with his duties as a Guardian, but the beauty of dreams lay in their being a gift rather than a guarantee.

He could make time for Kozmotis if he wanted to. Skipping one time zone for a night and spending the hour with Kozmotis instead would be no real hardship.

He'd waited centuries for a chance to see Kozmotis again, and he wasn't going to waste any second he could spend with Kozmotis now.

 

Sandy's routine adapted easily enough to accommodate Kozmotis, and Kozmotis appeared to be coping with the hours he had to spend alone. Sandy's home was far from short on reading material, books full of Katherine's stories providing details that Sandy had forgotten or hadn't thought immediately relevant, and the mermaids singing along the shores of the island were a calming influence.

Kozmotis sometimes had more questions when Sandy came back to see him, but other times he would sit quietly, listening to Sandy talking, or burying his head in a book while Sandy made him something to eat.

Sandy still wasn't sure what he could do for Kozmotis other than offer him a place to rest, but if that was all Kozmotis needed, he was more than happy to give it. He hadn't had someone to come home to since parting with Efreet in the Golden Age, and it felt like a blessing every time he walked into his home and found Kozmotis there, as if the universe hadn't come up with a thousand reasons Kozmotis shouldn't be alive.

 

Jack found out first. If any Guardian had to find out first, Sandy was glad for it to be Jack; Bunnymund had known Kozmotis, but Jack always hesitated before attacking, and that hesitation bought the seconds it took for Jack to notice the change of skin colour, the change of gait.

Jack didn't attack Kozmotis, but he did demand to know the details of what had happened - once from Kozmotis, and once from Sandy the second he arrived home.

Of course, courtesy of Baby Tooth having hitched a ride with Jack, by the time Sandy arrived home he also had to answer to Tooth as well. And North. And Bunnymund.

Answering would have been a lot easier if Bunnymund was a faster translator of sand speech, and if Kozmotis didn't make a habit of correcting Bunnymund's mistakes, but after struggling to find a way to explain Kozmotis was trustworthy without belittling their fear this was all a trick of Pitch's, Sandy simply pointed at Tooth and pointed at Kozmotis' mouth.

"Trust me," Sandy said to Kozmotis with an apologetic smile, though Bunnymund assumed Sandy meant that statement for everyone else gathered on the island.

Tooth narrowed her eyes before pushing down Kozmotis' lower lip with a finger, touching him as little as possible and scrutinising his incisors with care.

Kozmotis stared at Sandy wide-eyed, and Sandy winced, hating having to subject Kozmotis to this but knowing full well the others trusted Tooth's ability to read teeth better than any words Sandy could come up with. "This won't take long. I promise."

"They're different," Tooth said after a moment, looking away from Kozmotis' mouth with a puzzled frown, and cocking her head for Baby Tooth to come over and take a look. Baby Tooth nodded after a moment, looking even more confused than Tooth herself had been. "I've never seen anything like this," Tooth added, pulling her finger back and parting his lips with her thumbs so she could see further into his mouth. "These are Pitch's teeth but they're - not. Pitch's." Tooth let Kozmotis go, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm sorry, but I'm used to you trying to kill me."

Kozmotis didn't look particularly offended, more interested in rubbing a hand over his lips to rid them of the taste of Tooth's fingers. Sandy tried not to stare, but a blush crept over his cheeks anyway. "I understand. I heard what he did to you."

Tooth shrugged her shoulders. "He paid with a tooth. We're even."

Bunnymund snorted, but said nothing.

Sandy watched suspicion on the other Guardians' faces turn to discomfort, North resting one hand on his belly as if he were waiting for his gut to make a judgement for him. "Man in Moon saved your life. What do you mean to do with it?"

Sandy prepared to shoo everyone outside, protect Kozmotis from being questioned - they'd established he wasn't Pitch, that ought to be enough - but Kozmotis answered with barely a moment's hesitation, "Find my daughter and apologise."

He didn't specify what he meant to apologise for, but North's face as he nodded showed a depth of understanding Sandy wished he could share.

 

While at first the exchange between Kozmotis and the Guardians felt more like an interrogation than a conversation, the tension in the room eased up after a while thanks to everyone present making a habit of honesty. North had more talent in answering Kozmotis' questions than Sandy had, knowing when to soften a blow and when to be blunt. For all the suffering Pitch had caused, North was a noble warrior in his own heart, harbouring little resentment for the actions Kozmotis' body had taken while Pitch controlled it.

In turn, Kozmotis bore the scrutiny of North and the others better than Sandy would have hoped, but his weariness began to show through soon enough in the shadows under his eyes and the tightness of his lips. Sandy allowed a few grains of dreamsand to fall from the ceiling as a hint that everyone ought to leave, creating drooping eyelids and yawns, and shrugged when Tooth cast him a wary look.

"I think this is good news," North concluded at last, walking over to Kozmotis and clapping a hand down on his shoulder. "Tooth trusts your teeth, I trust my belly. Man in the Moon made the right choice."

Sandy's fingers itched with temptation to snatch North's hand away from Kozmotis, but he remained polite for Kozmotis' sake, forming a house shape over his head and a crescent moon above that before feigning a yawn.

North gave Sandy a smile despite the concern clear in his eyes, and Sandy was thankful for that small gesture; North could be overbearing at times, but he avoided mollycoddling those around him. They both knew the risk Sandy was taking in protecting Kozmotis.

North let Kozmotis' shoulder go and gestured for the others to follow him outside, leaving Sandy to breathe a sigh of relief and make himself a hot drink.

 

Kozmotis trailed him through to what was currently the kitchen, standing in the doorway and watching Sandy work.

Sandy wished he had the patience for elegant things like loose tea leaves and strainers, but he'd been around before tea bags came into common use and did not miss the fussiness of traditional brewing.

Guilt twisted his stomach a little as the silence between them stretched on, and Sandy interrupted it with, "I'm sorry for the interrogation."

"Don't apologise," Kozmotis said quietly. "I would have done the same."

Sandy couldn't argue with that, stirring sugar into his own tea and glancing at a serving tray before shrugging and handing Kozmotis' cup straight to him. He looked like he needed the tea a damn sight more than he needed the rituals surrounding it.

"I'll have to leave soon," Kozmotis said, his body language tense. It was almost strange to see him bearing himself like an adult when Pitch had been expressive to a child-like degree.

"I don't mind," Sandy lied, clutching his own cup of tea a little too tightly. "You can come back whenever you want. I don't mind you sleeping here."

Kozmotis flinched. "God, no. No more sleep." Sandy didn't say anything, but Kozmotis almost immediately gave an apologetic nod. "I mean no offense. I've dreamt long enough."

Sandy nodded, wishing he could argue the point of how his dreams differed from others, but knowing Kozmotis' discomfort at the idea of sleep was well-reasoned.

It was a peculiar "Good night" he wished Kozmotis as he left the kitchen, with dawn drawing close and the awareness that Kozmotis would not be sleeping.

 

Sandy had expected to find himself alone in his bedroom, but the white-haired elf perched on his windowsill defied those expectations. Tooth, North, and Bunnymund were long gone from the island, no hints of jasmine or vanilla on the air; Sandy wasn't sure what had made Jack linger, but he seemed pensive, watching the horizon where moonlit waters met a starry sky.

Sandy hopped up next to Jack, nudged the windowsill into widening a little so that they could sit together comfortably, and offered Jack a question mark.

Jack shrugged his shoulders, an embarrassed little smile on his face. "It's nothing, really."

Sandy begged to differ, poked Jack in the arm and offered another question mark, followed by the silhouette of Pitch's face. Kozmotis', now, but Sandy had some intuition as to who was responsible for Jack's mood, if not how or why they had caused it.

"Kozmotis really isn't Pitch, is he?" Jack stated as much as asked; Sandy nodded anyway. "I just - I'd hoped Pitch could be helped. He was lonely, lonelier than me, I think. Maybe if I'd listened to him -"

Sandy shook his head fiercely, poked Jack in the side to make sure Jack saw. He didn't mind Jack thinking he would miss Pitch - Sandy knew full well how magnetic Pitch had been, how easy it was to slip up and like or even trust him - but he would not let Jack take the blame for his disappearance. All of the Guardians had watched Pitch be dragged down, and the creatures that had hurt Pitch were of his own making.

Jack laid his staff across his lap, frost gathered fiercely through its centre, and touched his fingers to the point where it had once been split. "I'd be alone without Pitch. I had the choice of joining you guys or him, and I wouldn't have had it without him."

Sandy couldn't think of an argument against Jack's point and opted instead to grab one of Jack's hands between his own, squeezing it tight. Jack's little jump at the touch didn't go unnoticed, but he squeezed back, an awkward smile on his face.

Sandy drew up a few grains of dreamsand, shaping them into an honest admission. Coarse, and not of any traditional form of dream-speech given Jack's difficulties reading it, but honest. "I", a heart, and Kozmotis' outline, wearing a little halo to make the distinction from Pitch clear.

Jack laughed. "Okay, you win. Wish we had some beer to drown our sorrows in."

Sandy reshaped the sands into one of North's goblets, and Jack laughed harder.

"Yeah, that'd be good too."

Jack disappeared after watching the sunrise, seeking cooler climes than those of Sandy's island, and Sandy closed up the windows and doors of his room until the dark inside could pass for night. The moon could watch over the children of Earth while he slept; he'd earned a little rest.

 

Sandy couldn't claim to be surprised when he woke to find Kozmotis had left. It was a disappointment he'd prepared for early on, knowing that Kozmotis would want to seek out his daughter as soon as he was ready.

He hadn't expected Kozmotis would be ready quite so soon, but it seemed one of the traits Kozmotis shared with Pitch was efficiency.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some spoilers for "Toothiana, Queen of the Tooth Fairy Armies" from the Guardians of Childhood series.
> 
> My apologies for taking so long to finish this, but I was determined not to let it be one of those WIPs that remains WIP forever <3.

Earth kept turning. With or without Pitch, with or without Kozmotis, it kept turning with little care for the monsters and heroes who had fought over it, and Sandy found himself marvelling at the world's resilience. He'd seen Pitch's nightmares test it to the brink and watched it recover - belief, hope, and wonder all regaining the footholds they had almost lost entirely - and something about watching that process gave him hope for Kozmotis' own recovery.

Of course, Kozmotis was no planet, and he had carried the weight of an entire universe's fears and nightmares for millennia, but the holes in his memory helped drain that weight. Sandy could only be thankful for that - Kozmotis did not deserve the punishment of remembering the full extent of Pitch's crimes. 

The guilt for Pitch's actions shouldn't have rested on Kozmotis' shoulders, but Sandy knew "shouldn't" didn't count for much when your own body was used against you. He hoped time with the daughter Kozmotis had been stolen from would help his friend to heal.

 

Kozmotis' daughter had a reputation for silence. Even Katherine, who had spoken with her face to face, knew little more than her names; the one everyone had heard - Mother Nature - and the one from the Golden Age, Seraphina.

Even so, letters from her home arrived often enough to reassure Sandy of Kozmotis' safety, passing storms often carrying paper up to Sandy's cloud or tossing it onto the beaches of his island. Sandy treasured each one, even if their contents were largely inconsequential - Kozmotis' first letter was a simple apology for leaving without saying goodbye, and his later letters made reference to his conversations with Seraphina without going into great detail. Kozmotis valued his privacy, and his daughter's, but the very fact of his sending letters prevented Sandy from feeling left out.

He wasn't sure if it was that Kozmotis knew he cared, or if it was that their shared exile on Earth meant that Sandy was one of the only people around who Kozmotis could safely call a friend, but he appreciated the updates nonetheless. 

Sandy had not quite feared the worst from Seraphina, but she was notoriously unpredictable, and he had certainly feared _something_ bad might happen to Kozmotis during his stay - especially if she initially took his return for a trick. Sandy knew he couldn't understand the particular suffering she had endured; when he lost his own parents, it was in such a way that there was no doubt they were gone forever, and though it had been cruel to lose them in battle he would take that certainty of their passing over the corruption of who they had been any day.

Regardless of her temperament, Seraphina's transformation into Mother Nature had not twisted her, and her moments of ferocity weren't the result of losing her reason like a spirit or a ghost. She had watched a universe that once loved her father be destroyed by a monster wearing his face, and she had known better than anyone else, better even than Sandy, how poor a mirror Pitch had been of Kozmotis. The fearlings that created Pitch took the aspects of Kozmotis they understood to create a personality - his loneliness, endurance, and the ruthless efficiency required of a General all combining to create something that so closely resembled a person it was easy to be fooled by the result.

Kozmotis' safety made it easier for Sandy to sleep, easier for him to spread dreams without having to look for fragments of his own anxiety escaping into the images he created and distorting them. Between the tasks of dream-weaving and hunting down the few nightmares that prowled wild without their master, it wasn't hard for Sandy to lose track of time.

When the invitation to North's Boxing Day party showed up on Sandy's island in the hands of an elf who appeared to have been sampling egg nog already, it was a rather sharp reminder of exactly how much time had passed. A life spent chasing sunsets allowed him to forget its presence until friends who relied on dates and seasons reminded him of it, and the invitation gave him a chance to relax somewhat. Enough countries celebrated Christmas that he could use it as a theme in the dreams he created, furthering their belief in North while giving his own mind a rest from coming up with new creations over and over.

It also let him plan ahead slightly, giving special dreams to those who would need it most, those whose Christmases were due to be a little colder or a little lonelier that year.

 

Boxing Day itself came, Sandy unsurprised to find that North had sent invitations to both Seraphina and Kozmotis, though only one of them seemed intent on taking advantage of it. Sandy watched from one of the higher turrets of North's home as a blizzard deposited both father and daughter outside the main entrance, Seraphina talking with Kozmotis a while before adjusting his clothes, kissing him on the cheek, and leaving as swiftly as she had arrived.

Sandy regretted missing a chance to see her close up, but it had been impressive to see how she stood near as tall as her father, dark curls tumbling down to her waist.

She wore a green dress, and even if it was not the dress of a little girl anymore, the familiarity of the colour made Sandy's stomach twist.

 

Kozmotis' arrival in the main hall was somewhat awkward at first, but as soon as North caught sight of him the mood was turned with booming laughter and North's particular variety of open affection. The yetis had apparently been put in charge of ensuring Kozmotis was supplied with as much egg nog and fruitcake as he could physically hold, and the elves had taken it upon themselves to try and part him from both through a combination of nibbling on his ankles and stealing whatever he dropped or spilt as a result.

Jack and North were both content to talk with Kozmotis freely, and that was enough to settle Sandy's nerves. Tooth's wounds from Pitch's actions were too recent, and Bunnymund's too deep for him to expect either to warm up to Kozmotis anytime soon, though Tooth was polite when circumstance demanded they acknowledge each other, and Bunnymund kept his distance out of civility.

It didn't entirely occur to him that he had been keeping his own distance until he decided to interrupt the stream of egg nog the yetis were feeding Kozmotis to steal a cup for himself and was met with a look of surprise. "Hello, Sanderson."

"Evening," Sandy replied with a smile, offering Kozmotis a silent toast before knocking back the cup in one go, needing the dose of confidence and the weight of sweet cream in his belly. He wished he knew how to make small talk, but he already knew what Kozmotis had been up to lately courtesy of his letters, and commenting on the weather in the North Pole was like pointing out how the rain had been wet lately. "It's good to see you," he settled on, because that was true at least.

Kozmotis smiled back stiffly before tilting his head towards the exit. "Would you join me outside?"

Sandy stole another cup of egg nog and clutched it between his hands for warmth before nodding with enthusiasm and following Kozmotis out into the hallway.

 

It wasn't exactly private, but the few tooth fairies who occasionally fluttered by were far from intrusive, and Sandy felt Kozmotis relax in the dimmed light. The time he'd spent with Seraphina had lead to him picking up a slight tan, and the touch of colour suited him.

"I wanted to thank you for all your help," Kozmotis said, sitting in the arch of one of the windows lining the hall, his back to the glass. Sandy shivered automatically, though Kozmotis didn't seem to feel the cold. "And I wish I had more than words to offer. I've spent a lot of time going through my memories, piecing together what was real and what wasn't."

Sandy nodded for Kozmotis to go on, draining his cup and setting it down so he could give the mostly one-sided conversation proper attention. "Yes?"

"There are only so many nightmares you can have before they start to blur together, but I remember the dreams. Seraphina agreed that I should let you know - I don't think you are alone, Sanderson." Kozmotis folded his hands in his lap. "I know some of what Pitch did to you, and to those around you. I know what he did to our age. But I don't think he was as successful as he hoped. I didn't stop dreaming when Pitch marooned us on Earth."

Sandy's eyes stung viciously all of a sudden, his breath caught in his throat, and he was glad to be standing rather than floating.

Kozmotis glanced over his shoulder and out the window, as if searching the sky for a sign, something to show there was no such thing as coincidence. "I had dreams of adventures, of course. They might have been yours. But there were dreams of memories, and dreams of things that had yet to happen. And other dreams." He went very quiet, very still, and looked back at Sandy. "Red dreams."

It could have been zir family, could have been someone completely unrelated, but Sandy knew - not just hoped, he _knew_ , right through to his own belly as surely as North ever had - it had to have been Efreet. Still a pilot after all this time.

Sandy laughed silently, the sting in his eyes spilling over into tears, and he wiped at them with the heels of his palms, happy beyond the telling of it. Kozmotis' smile in response was affectionate rather than cruel, and Sandy flushed with embarrassment, quickly drying his hands on his robes, his tears finished with but his grin hard to remove.

"Thank you," Sandy said, wishing he was still young enough to offer hugs freely, and looking out of the window with the hope he might catch a shooting star.

He didn't, but he might as well have for all the warmth flooding his chest.

 

The evening wore on, and after returning to the main hall Sandy found himself drawn into dancing with Tooth, North, and several yetis, Bunnymund stubbornly refusing to join in until Jack threatened him with a snowball.

It was good to spend time with people he considered friends, because for all that he didn't require company to be happy, there was a certain energy to be gained from seeing people he liked enjoying themselves. It was better still to see in practise how they were capable of enjoying themselves without his involvement, allowed him to rest easy knowing they would be alright. Sandy had never turned down an invitation to one of North's parties, and this reason was one of many.

Sandy was mid-flight with Tooth when Jack stole him from her arms for a dance of his own, silencing her protests with a kiss to the cheek and a wink that left her blushing. Tooth's retreat to the ground left them in relative privacy, allowing Jack to lean in and whisper conspiratorially, "So, how did it go with Kozmotis?"

Sandy glanced at the floor beneath them just to make sure no one was eavesdropping, before shrugging.

"You're gonna have to give me more than that. Is that a 'it went well' shrug or a 'it went bad' shrug or..." Jack cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. "Didn't you tell him?"

Sandy shook his head, formed a picture of a clock with a cross through it. It wasn't the right time.

"Are you kidding me, Sandy? You were alone! How often's that going to happen?"

Sandy gave Jack a long, thorough stare, knowing as well as Jack did that long waits didn't matter all that much if you were practically immortal, before throwing up a quick buffer of sand against the ceiling; Jack's flight patterns were a little less stable than his or Tooth's, and it wasn't uncommon to end up with a bump on the head as a result if one wasn't careful.

"Sandy, I don't know if he knows it, but Koz looks at you like Tooth looks at my teeth. He has literally made sure to spend time alone with you." Jack pressed a quick kiss to Sandy's nose, a flutter of nervous energy settling in Sandy's gut in response, and if it didn't feel so pleasant Sandy would have given Jack a stern talking to over misuse of his powers. "Go get him."

 

Sandy had rarely felt more foolish or reckless in his life as he floated down to grab Kozmotis by the shoulder, quickly signing "I have something to tell you too," before heading back out into the hallway, slamming shut the door on the opposite end and looping sand around it to made sure it stayed shut; he didn't need a lot of time, but he did want privacy for it.

Once Kozmotis joined him, he made sure to do the same for that door as well before taking Kozmotis' hands and looking up at him.

It was a small gesture, but enough to catch Kozmotis' attention entirely, even more so when Sandy let his thumb rub against Kozmotis' wrist.

"Sanderson?"

"I'm sorry if I'm wrong," Sandy said, nervous, but reassured by how Kozmotis didn't snatch his hands back, even when Sandy tugged him down until they were at eye level.

Kozmotis knelt for comfort, and Sandy only let go of his hands because doing so allowed him to wrap both arms around Kozmotis' neck and pull him in for a kiss, silencing the quiet, "Oh," that had formed on Kozmotis' tongue.

 _I wished you well_ , Sandy thought, surprised and delighted by the warmth of Kozmotis' skin, the softness hidden behind firm lips.

 _It worked_ , came an echo, and Sandy wasn't so sure the thought was his own.

 

Their first kiss was sweet and the second thorough, Sandy learning the shape of Kozmotis' mouth with his own before he was forced to pull away and release his hold on the hallway's doors, allowing fairies and elves to pass through it once more. Two kisses were enough if he could sit at Kozmotis' side on a windowsill and hold his hand, ignoring the rest of the world while he and Kozmotis talked.

The party drew to a close with everyone heading outside to enjoy North's fireworks, and Sandy couldn't help but grin at the thumbs up Jack gave him and Kozmotis when they joined the crowd.

Sandy looked up with Kozmotis at the sky, watching the stars mingle with explosions of colour and sound. Sandy remembered when the entire universe had seemed like that - beautiful and infinite and full of possibilities - but he didn't know if it had ever been the same for Kozmotis. Even if it had, there was no guarantee he would have memories of that time.

Sandy allowed himself to watch Kozmotis for a moment instead of the sky, watching colours and light shift across his face, the way his features seemed to soften or sharpen in response, and remembered the hero he had idolised as a child. He'd loved the stories about Kozmotis, the adventures he inspired Sandy to dream about. He'd never given much thought to the dreams Kozmotis might have had.

Sandy squeezed Kozmotis' hand tighter, promising to himself he would find out what dreams Kozmotis still had, what wishes he might help come true.

 

It would be years yet before humans found the technology to travel the universe freely, more before they found evidence of the civilisations that had preceded them, many more before they found survivors of those civilisations.

It would be centuries before they were capable of developing their own Golden Age.

Sandy would be there for all of it. He would be ready to gift the universe with his dreams once more. 

And with Kozmotis, and Seraphina, and the Guardians, he had everything he needed to help make sure that this age lasted.

 

The End


End file.
